Practical Arrangements
by anachronist-mirror
Summary: Wedding speeches were good opportunities for roasting. [Post-Canon. FukuDazai, ChuuAngo]


This was a terrible idea.

Beside him, Yukichi's grip on his sake cup tightened by an infentisimal millimeter. Dazai discretely patted his husband's hand as they both watched Soseki, following Kunikida's impressive reenactment of a strained lid atop a bipolar geyser, stood to offer his own toast. This reception had gone downhill since the round of speeches started - while Dazai pretended he had no face to lose after years of being a fool sitting on the fence between depression and sociopathy, Yukichi still carried himself with enough dignity to cow even the most incorrigible mobster.

Unfortunately for him, that value was no match for his own mentor, nor for certain other individuals assembled in the room. Mori, in particular, looked rather pleased with himself, having managed to arrange these so-called festivities after finding out that his rival and his ex-right hand had married each other, and that he hadn't been invited.

Leave it to that man to re-define the definition of 'private wedding' by arguing for 'the need to foster inter-organizational relations and reaffirm old alliances,' which quickly downgraded the Agency-only affair to a luxury-laden pissing contest once Fitzgerald got wind of the event, bestowing upon them a rather forceful donation of his own.

"We can get shitfaced after this," Dazai offered by way of a whisper, rubbing the pad of his thumb on his husband's knuckles. "Or go back to our honeymoon before it was so woefully interrupted. Preferably the latter."

"After dinner," Yukichi, who had more patience for social gatherings honed from experience, clarified. "Don't be rude."

"Yeah, Dazai, that would be fleeing," Ranpo muttered from Yukichi's other side, almost done with his fifth plate of dessert. "Coward."

Dazai leaned forward to raise an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you just here for the unlimited cake?"

"Including the one you two cut." The senior detective looked rather smug. That one was a rich chocolate ganache, zero fondant, and chosen specifically with him in mind. "More importantly, it's your fault for sneaking off in the first place, _Dad._"

Dazai choked. Between them, Yukichi grew rigid, ears turning a startling shade of red that nearly matched the shirt peeking out of his partner's white vest and waistcoat.

That was new. Once he regained his bearings, he'd also realize that could be creatively interpreted as license to throw back terrible dad jokes in retaliation.

The sharp rapping of a cane on the floor drew their attention.

"_Ahem._"

He had the grace to give Soseki, who patiently waited for them to settle down, a smile in guile apology.

The man began his speech without much fuss, putting on the airs of a great orator with an exacting awareness that the time offered to him was his rightful due.

"We are gathered here to celebrate this rather momentous occasion of well-earned joy. These two gentlemen have, alongside us, pushed through near-overwhelming odds for the sake of our dear city, and to them I offer my sincerest congratulations. As we commemorate their union, let us also not forget the strides we all have made together in spite of your respective organizations' hyper-aggressive _sportsmanship_ and participation in a contest without end."

That last line earned a few knowing grins, accompanied by chuckles from the non-Japanese side. Soseki took the chance to sip water before continuing, and Dazai caught the slightest crinkle at the corner of the man's eyes: the prelude to a butterfly flapping its wings. Or, in this case, the padding of cat's paws rippling into an earthquake.

"Wherefore," Soseki said in all seriousness after setting down his glass, "I must ask this: a temporary ceasefire we might have for this intercultural exchange, but for heaven's sake, why are we mixing Western glamour with our sensible, native Japanese traditions?"

Well, then. Surely Soseki was more than aware that the reception wasn't as strict of an affair, never mind that Dazai had chosen his suit's style and colors as a whimsical play on the occasion's traditional kimono. Should he have worn his wedding hakama as Yukichi had done?

From one of the tables, Fitzgerald's eyebrows disappeared into the fringe of his hair, and he leaned forward, keenly interested and nearly spoiling for a debate. "Is that a joke, Old Sport?"

"Not at all," Soseki sniffed. "As the saying these days goes: born Shinto, wed Christian, die Buddhist. While the grooms were dressed in the proper attire when they underwent the traditional walk and exchange of cups, I fail to see why others have not followed suit."

Here, he cast a critical eye towards Ango, their emcee, who very carefully managed to unfreeze, leaving carefully concealed annoyance at being called out. It was well-known in certain circles that the undersecretary's own marriage to Chuuya had been limited to a court signing and a night of merrymaking before the couple parted, returning to the woes of soul-crushing workaholism.

Supposedly.

How they managed their marital duties was a mystery best not thought about in too much detail. Likely entered into a synced calendar buried under a million layers of encryption, then consummated everywhere _but_ the bedroom, complete with loud jazz music crooning from a gramophone to drown out noise: ex-triple agent and a high profile criminal, the ultimate noir-themed porn trash fantasy masquerading as a B movie. Pity all that budget was poured in the set design instead of everything else, like a sensible script. The overall result only worked thanks to the two actors' miserable guilt complexes and pent up frustrations that lead to their shared kinkier-than-thou attitude.

Dazai was still scarred from accidentally witnessing their lizards-on-the-ceiling rendition of a Lupanar mural.

Then he caught on to what Soseki was _really_ getting at, and as his shoulders loosened, he returned Yukichi's inquiring gaze with a reassuring smile and the briefest tip of the head to their emcee. _Watch._

"Ah."

The understated amusement in that one syllable was syrupy-warm in Dazai's chest.

When it was clear he was expected to answer, Ango cleared his throat.

"There are practicalities to consider," the bespectacled man said. The sweat on his brow could be attributed to the actual spotlight on him courtesy of the hired photographer. Even without it, however, Soseki was more than capable of instilling fear into others, as a bakeneko would.

"That, _precisely,_ is the problem." Another rasp of a cane accompanied the point. "_Practicalities._ There is such a thing as restraint in both expression and finding convenience. I am, of course, referring to your little _tantric_ meditation in that two-person conference from the other day. Attaining enlightenment has never been so loud an affair in the hallowed halls of a museum's storage!"

Down the table, Atsushi, distraught at his lack of an extra pair of hands for ear covering, pressed both Kyouka's and Kenji's heads to his chest.

Dazai, beaming at the scandalous accusations not made at his expense, exchanged looks with his husband in the ensuing silence.

"In the midst of busyness," Yukichi murmured gravely in his ear, "there is free time."

_Bouchuu kan ari._

\- _wait._

The unexpected delivery of that proverb made him crack. Dazai hid his face on Yukichi's arm, never mind that shaking shoulders gave away his mirth to anyone watching. Well, this wasn't going as either of them expected, and he bid a fond farewell to the ghosts of his rude not-friends' long-lost dignities. Couldn't say something like this hadn't been a long time coming either.

"Oh my," Kouyou tittered, covering her mouth with a sleeve as she cast a sly look to the red-faced Chuuya next to her. "You've grown up, boy. Was why that the institution received a hefty amount of anonymous donations? No wonder their security team was happy to turn over their recordings to locate your auction prize."

Being a dealer of misplaced art came with its perks and hefty profits.

"_Anee-san,_" Chuuya hissed, visibly holding himself back before his wine glass shattered. The Executive was studiously not looking at Mori, whose mild amusement was always worthy of caution.

"Oh, don't mind me," she said loftily, turning to their current speaker with an elegant nod accompanied by the tinkle of kanzashi. "As Soseki-dono was saying?"

"Conferences," Soseki said, inclining his head at Kouyou in acknowledgment. It was remarkable how much irritation his severe, self-contained tone still managed to exude. "And practicalities. The organizations you all are part of have a wealth of experience and talent. To avoid any accidental _moongazing_ in the future, I highly recommend for all of you, including the two grooms up front, to foster children at the soonest possible time. You cannot simply keep a retired old man such as myself waiting. I'm _retired,_ and I wish to stay that way."

Balance out the old arrangement and find more ways to even the work, hmm? Yokohama was going to run out of eligible repentant criminals and orphans at this rate, whether or not they had abilities. Dazai was about to point at Atsushi, when he felt Yukichi grasp his wrist.

"We already have plans in place, Soseki-dono," he said.

Whether or not all three of them had the same plan in mind remained to be seen.

"Good," Soseki said with a sharp nod. "Dismissed!"

There was a brilliant flash of light, and the man was gone. In the nervous laughter and bubble of chatter that followed, Dazai could hear Haruno exclaiming that Mii-chan had somehow wandered in.

"'Plans?'" he asked, finally lifting his head after he recovered from snickering. The influx of cool air made him all too aware of the warmth on his cheeks.

"Plans," Yukichi nodded, retrieving an envelope from his sleeve and passing it to Dazai with a look that clearly said _later._

Reading the contents led to repeated celebrations on the sheets late in the evening, after a routine check that Atsushi, Kenji, and Kyouka were safe at the dorms.

* * *

**A/N:** The twist in Soseki's speech is based on rl!Soseki's themes on dealing with (?) the Meiji era.

Let me know what you think!


End file.
